Sunday, November 23, 2008

things mechanical

I was raised to be a traditional female. I learned to sew, to clean, to iron, to cook (well, really to bake more than to cook), to play the piano and cello, to be a good student, to be nice . . . all of those girl things. I played with barbies, and collected little miniatures of mice and loved animals and read nancy drew mysteries. during my early adolescence my parents would occasionally drag me outside to help in the yard or help stain our wood siding, and I do remember visiting my dad's workshop and admiring all of those little baby food jars, each filled with a different size nail or screw with the lid nailed to a shelf above so that all my dad had to do was look for the right jar, then twist the jar free from its lid to grab the item he needed.all this to explain how far I've come.that I have made great progress, being able to change my own bike tubes and tires, and having a rudimentary understanding of how the whole darn gearing system works, as well. that as a result of being a single homeowner for over four years, I have learned how to put up electrical fixtures and change parts inside a toilet and clean gutters and patch holes in walls and fix sprinkler heads and about 50 other types of amazingly necessary home repairs. I have come a long way, and though it has tested me sorely at times, I am proud of my progress and thrilled that I can model for my children a female who is capable of handling whatever gets thrown at her.until this morning.a few days back I decided it was time to think about putting some lights up on my house, you know, in the Christmas spirit. the first year I was on my own I put lights up, having to borrow a 12-foot ladder from my neighbor to reach some of my peaked roof lines. I remember freezing fingers and a healthy portion of frustration, and a great sense of satisfaction when I was done.and then half a strand went out. you know, the strand right in the middle of it all, the one that was most difficult to put up in the first place. half a strand. dark.sigh.I've never had a season where all of my strands worked all of the time. yet. I know it's coming.this morning I hauled the bin inside that houses all of my exterior lights. I carefully pulled each bundle out, and started plugging them in to make sure they worked before I hung them outside. I plugged the first one in, and a third of the strand lit up. I started working my way through the unlit portion, looking and feeling for loose connections or bad bulbs. ha. after about three minutes of that, I put the strand aside and plugged the next one in.half the bulbs lit up.next strand: not a single bulb lit up.next strand: completely dark.did my outlet just go bad? I actually looked around to see if other things in my home were receiving electricity: had the power just gone out??I took the strand to the kitchen outlet just in case: dark, dead, nada. not a single one of my 6 strands worked. NONE!and I know they can be fixed. they're not terribly expensive, but I really don't want to go buy an entire new set of outdoor lights when I have all of these . . . but then again, I only have this sense of how to fix them, and I'm frustrated and I just want to throw them all away.

and have I told you that my bike's still squeaking, still making this noise I can't diagnose? not all the time, and not always under the same circumstances, no, that would make it entirely too easy to go have fixed.

I'm not sure what I want here. I want to be capable, effective, self-sufficient. and then, I don't want to have to do any of that stuff. I learned a little, I've achieved a certain level of competence, but I don't really have the energy and desire to leap to the next plane. do I really have to keep growing? I want to rest here, for a while. I love to learn and be challenged, but I'm tired. I'm like the young adolescent with growing pains: we can only take so much growth and change before we need to rest a little, absorb the changes, and maybe even take some ibuprofen.

it's a gorgeous, sun-filled day out there, and having now spewed all of my frustration, I am going to go lube my bike before my ride, and then settle down on the floor with my 6 strands of malfunctioning lights (yes, they're the icicle kind with all of those confusing strands hanging off the main strand) and look at bulbs, one by one, and see if I can make a difference.

relax your gaze

repair work

Happy Biking!

somewhere in mid-south-central utah

city creek canyon

triumphant

lunar girl

ahh . . .

rainy day feeling

turbo, my guard dog

still smiling, almost halfway through the Big Ride

trapper's loop, august 17, 2008

drowned rat at brighton

august 9, 2008

welcome to the tao of cycling

you will find here the wisdom, humor, and observations my ever-busy mind create as I ride my bicycle around our beautiful state. I am blessed to live in a perfect environment for cycling, with a handful of canyons just minutes away from my door, and my desire is that you will travel with me through some of my incredible experiences.

the Male Ego

The other day I was coming down a canyon in my drop bars (two years ago I would have said, 'what's a drop bar?'), working hard, when I came up on two guys who were also heading downhill but at a more leisurely pace. I passed them, said hello as I did so, and pulled back into the bike lane. a few minutes later they went flying past me, faces looking dead ahead, not a single bit of acknowledgment that I even existed on this planet let alone was involved in and enjoying the same sport they were.I have to attribute this to the male ego. what else can it be? now I know we all have egos, myself included. and mine even shows its ridiculous little head once in a while, or perhaps more often. but the difference between mine and say, those of certain men on bicycles, is that I KNOW mine exists and I can LAUGH at mine. I know my ego was quite excited to pass those guys, and I could also smile because I knew if the men had really been working like I was, they would have kicked my butt down the hill. I think I pissed them off.and I'm sure I will be sharing with you much more of my thoughts about the male ego . . .

About Me

Born in the 1960's in Michigan, I have spent most of my life in Utah, for which I am grateful. In fact, my life is firmly rooted in gratitude, and my cycling brings that home to me every day I ride. I am a mom, a business owner, a student of yoga (oh so far to go!), a writer, a friend, and an avid roadie. and a million other things, as we all are . . .
I am a writer practicing her craft, and have committed to posting here regularly. happy reading, and
be well!

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a little history

I was married, and I had a mountain bike which I rarely rode. we separated, I moved out, and four months later someone stole my bike. the next spring, 2005, I bought myself a new mountain bike. I rode occasionally, and in april 2006 I rode in my first century, the Cactus Hugger in St. George, Utah. I made it 54 miles on that mountain bike, and it took me about 6 hours. I think that included the rest stops where I prayed that someone would steal my bike again . . .in june 2006 I started riding my mountain bike five mornings a week, a 45-55 minute loop that was intended to be all about exercise. and what I found was that I loved the quiet, peaceful morning full of bird chatter and barely breaking sunrises. by that fall I was hooked, and began considering the purchase of a road bike. I rode up emigration canyon for the first time that Labor Day of 2006, panting and plowing along on my trusty (heavy) bike, and a month later I was the proud owner of my own road bike: I had become a two-bike girl!a 17-week-long "power camp" over the winter and a handful of new friends kept bicycling front and center in my life, and when spring of 2007 rolled around I was ready to hit the pavement. I rode my first century the end of april, when I again went to St. George and completed that Cactus Hugger. it took me about 7 hours, but this time I rode the entire 100 miles with about 9300 feet of vertical gain. woo hoo!I started riding canyons around our area, emigration and millcreek, city creek, big cottonwood, little mountain and big mountain, and once--yes, only once--little cottonwood.then in september of 2007, I rode from Logan, Utah, to Jackson, Wyoming, in the slightly infamous LOTOJA race. I rode, I did not race. and I completed the thing, crediting my good training buddies, the incredibly perfect weather, my support team, and an amazing convergence of all things positive in the universe.I put in about 3500 miles last season, and as of today, july 19, 2008, I have about 1700 in, adding to it every day.I have again signed on to ride the LOTOJA race, and my goal is to have just somewhere near as great a ride as I did last year. oh, and to have someone fun to talk with along the way as I got incredibly bored last year . . . star valley is still a nightmare scene in my biking memories . . .and here is a picture of the machine that has helped me reclaim my life.